Rookie Season
by gypsyscarfwoman
Summary: Jane returns from Quantico, rejoins the team, and gives Kurt grey hair. (Set somewhere in the time period between the end of Sandstorm and Jane taking up mountain climbing.)
1. Rookie Season

Jane got shot exactly 7 days after joining CIRG as a full Special Agent, 10 days after graduating from Quantico.

Not that it really qualified as a bullet wound, she decided, eyeing the scratch on the outside of her left arm critically.

The dock around her was a buzz of activity, now that the drug traffickers had been subdued and their FBI backup had finally shown up to haul the surviving members into custody.

"You okay?" asked Tasha, breathless after dashing across the dock to her side.

"I've had worse," Jane muttered and then realized what she'd said– and to whom.

Both women regarded each other with identical "oh crap" expressions for a heartbeat, and then they both cracked up.

"Agent Doe?"

Jane looked up to find Special Agent Will Brady, who had joined the team two months earlier, regarding her and Tasha with a frown.

She stifled a sigh. "Jane, please, Brady," she said for the dozenth time. He was an experienced agent, she knew, with a sterling reputation. And even though he'd been excessively polite, Jane was sure he didn't like her. And given that it was his fault– albeit indirectly– that she'd gotten shot, she wasn't a particularly big fan of his at the moment, either.

Tasha grimaced and yanked the comm out of her ear, letting it dangle in the front of her collar.

"Kurt?" guessed Jane.

Tasha just rolled her eyes, and Jane bit her lip, stifling another laugh. Kurt had yelled in all the comms the second Tasha had announced, "Jane's hit," and Jane had yanked her comm out then. Kurt was going to yell about it, she knew, and she wasn't sure she wanted to sit through it more than once.

"How badly are you injured?" asked Brady.

She opened her mouth to assure him it was just a scratch, but was interrupted by Kurt's arrival.

"Jane!"

He was wild-eyed and furious, Jane saw at a glance, drawing in a deep breath to assure him she wasn't badly hurt.

But after his searing glance had taken in Jane's injury, he had already turned to Brady, "You were supposed to have her back!"

Jane and Tasha exchanged glances. Technically, Brady had been at fault. Jane had taken off after one of the traffickers, leaping at his back and tackling him. The guy hadn't been willing to go down without a fight, though, and his training had been nearly as good as hers. She wasn't exactly sure what Brady had been doing, having caught only a glimpse of his stunned face as he watched her fighting, but apparently he hadn't noticed the second man until he'd fired his gun at Jane. Fortunately, she'd been hit in the left arm and was still able to dive for the handgun she'd dropped and shoot the guy she'd been fighting with using her right arm. Brady had finally woken from his stupor in time to shoot the second guy before he'd been able to fire again, but Jane was pretty sure Kurt was about to rip the guy a new one.

"He surprised us," Jane interrupted Kurt, before he could speak. "But Brady got him."

Both men's heads swiveled to look at her. Kurt, still pissed, and Brady, with a stunned expression that was evidently becoming his default for Jane.

She was saved from any further discussion by the arrival of an ambulance. "Get. Checked. Now," growled Kurt.

Over his shoulder Tasha nodded at Jane and reached out to grab Brady's arm. "We're going to go follow up with the second team."

Brady opened his mouth to argue, but Tasha yanked on his arm with what Jane was sure was a lot more force than the other agent had expected. He frowned down at Tasha, who was at least a foot shorter than him, but allowed her to drag him away.

"How bad is it?" demanded Kurt, leaning over to look at her wound.

"I'm fine."

He ignored her, wrapping his hand around her elbow to hold it still while he inspected her injury.

Jane covered his hand with her own uninjured hand. "It's a scratch, Kurt. Not as bad as the one I got the first time I was out in the field with _you_."

He shot her a fulminating look. "That doesn't count. You didn't even know that you could shoot a gun."

"And all Brady knows about me is that I'm his boss's girlfriend, fresh out of Quantico, and I look like some kind of goth nightmare."

He scowl grew even darker. "You do not. And he doesn't know we're…"

"Of course he knows. Everyone in the office knows," she reminded him, unable to fully suppress her smile. Kurt confessing his love for her– completely unmindful of the open comm he was wearing– was one of her most cherished memories.

He grimaced. "He's only been here two months," he muttered.

"And I'm _sure_ no one has mentioned it to him."

"Fine," he conceded. "I won't fire him. _Today_ ," he added, matching her sarcasm.

"I'll spar with him tomorrow," she told him. If Brady was half the agent he was supposed to be, they'd both come out of it with new respect for the other.

"You'll spar with him once your arm has healed." Kurt let go of her arm and gave her a gentle push toward the waiting ambulance.

Jane flashed him a grin and did as she was told.

###

It was nearly four hours later before Jane was able to escape the office for the day. After being patched up by the paramedics– who had deemed that her scratch wasn't even bad enough to warrant stitches– she'd rejoined the team at the office to complete the copious amount of paperwork the morning's activities had warranted.

Her arm was starting to throb. Whatever they'd numbed her up with had long since worn off, and she just wanted to go home and curl up with Kurt.

Brady was the only one in the locker room, when she entered. She nodded politely to him as she walked by.

"Jane."

At his utterance– his first use of her name– she stopped and turned around. "Yes?"

He swallowed, adam's apple bobbing nervously. "You're good in the field."

She blinked. "Thank you."

"About today–"

"Business as usual," she cut him off. "We're good. Aren't we?"

He nodded, looking slightly unsettled.

The door behind him opened, and Kurt walked in. "Brady," he barked.

"Sir." Brady turned and straightened to attention.

Jane shot Kurt a look over Brady's shoulder, which he ignored completely. She walked down to her own locker, listening to the conversation behind her.

Kurt sighed. "Long day. Go home, get some rest."

"Yes, sir. Good night, sir." Brady scurried out of the locker room as fast as he could without looking undignified.

Kurt continued down the row of lockers until he got to Jane's.

"Good bossing," she told him.

He shot her a dark look. "How's your arm?"

She eyed the hole in the sleeve of her jacket. "Better than my coat."

He looked at the hole and shook his head. "One goddamned week," he muttered.

"Can we hurry through the part where you yell at me for being reckless?"

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You weren't reckless. Brady's report takes all the blame. Your report gives none to him. You both state that you were injured in the course of doing your job."

"You're still pissed off, though," she pointed out.

He glared at her. "You go away for five months, during which I hardly see you. You aren't home for ten days, and you get shot."

She leaned toward him and dropped her forehead to rest against his collarbone. "I'm tired, my arm hurts, and I'm starving. Can you take me home and feed me and then lecture me?"

He sighed, his breath ruffling her hair, and wrapped his arms around her. "How about I take you home, feed you, and then you can tell me that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and establishing your own place on this team and I should stop overreacting?"

She smiled against his shoulder, slipped both arms around him, and hugged him tight, ignoring the twinge in her injured arm. "How about I tell you that I love you?"

He kissed the top of her head. "I love you too."

"Still glad I'm home, even if I do give you grey hair?"

He chuckled, hugging her closer. "You're worth every one."


	2. Where you hang your hat

_Soooo… yes, this was supposed to be a one-shot. But then I got some requests for more stories in this universe, even though I have other longer fics that are languishing, waiting for me to finish them. And then this popped into my head… from where, I have no idea. Yes, my subconscious does resemble a hoarding grandmother's attic. Thanks for visiting, and watch out for the stack of teapots behind you..._

* * *

It wasn't until the day that Jane collected her first real FBI paycheck that it occurred to her that she had basically moved into Kurt's apartment without actually asking him about it.

They'd stopped on the way home from work to buy groceries, and Kurt had paid for them, even though she had offered to buy them. She hadn't wanted to make a fuss, so she'd quietly acquiesced. And they'd gone home just as usual.

But she was still thinking about it long after they'd finished eating and had started the washing dishes.

"Are you going to tell me what you're stewing about?" he asked, accepting the dripping plate she passed him and drying it off.

"I'm not stewing," she protested automatically, washing the second plate, then carefully rinsing it and handing it over.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "So what are you _not_ stewing about? Did something happen at work?"

"No, everything's fine." She was glad to be back, after the long months at Quantico. She had settled back into a solid working relationship with Patterson and Tasha, as well as rebuilding friendships with both women. She'd gotten off to a slightly rockier start with the newer member of the team, Will Brady, but they were getting along better now.

She liked her job, felt good about the work they did. And she got to go to work with Kurt and come home with him, which until two hours ago, had made her feel like the luckiest woman in the universe.

"So what's bothering you?" persisted Kurt.

She shut off the water and carefully dried her hands on the towel he handed her before she answered. "Should I get my own place?"

His eyes widened as though she'd kicked him in the stomach. "You don't want to stay here?" His voice was level, but she could see the hurt in his eyes.

"No! It's not–" She fumbled for words. "It's just that I have a real job now. I can pay my own rent. I can buy my own groceries. You don't have to… to take care of me." She didn't have to be a burden to anyone anymore, especially not to him. She wasn't an asset anymore with a tiny living allowance. True, she was a federal employee at the bottom of the totem pole living in one of the most expensive cities in the country, so hardly wealthy, but she didn't have to be dependent on anyone, that was the part that mattered.

He stepped back so he wasn't crowding her by the sink. "You're right. This all happened… kind of fast. I didn't mean to rush you." He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded his head as though agreeing with something she'd said. "If you want your own place–"

"It's not that I want my own place. It's just… we never talked about this." She waved her hand in a gesture to encompass both of them and his apartment. "I mean, I came back from Quantico, and I just kind of… moved in here. And I don't want you to feel like I expect you to take care of me."

He looked at her, mouth working for a moment before words followed. "Jane… You are the most terrifyingly self-sufficient human being I've ever met. I know you don't need me. I just…" He held out his hands helplessly. "I'd give you the world if I could. Failing that, I want to cook you dinner." He shook his head. "If you want to buy groceries or– or get your own apartment… I just want you to be happy."

She found her voice. "You," she told him, "make me happy. And you're wrong." She reached out to take his hands, so much larger and stronger than hers, in her own. "I _do_ need you. And– and that scares me. Because this _is_ new, and– What if you change your mind?"

There it was. The thing that scared her most in the world.

He didn't blink. "I'm not going to change my mind about you. Not. Ever. Because I need you, too. But if this is too fast, if you need space–"

"What if my memories come back? And I remember being Remi?"

His hands tightened on hers. "Then you remember being Remi. But you're still going to be Jane. Having more memories isn't going to change who you have chosen to be."

She looked down at their joined hands, drawing strength from their connection, and tried to believe that.

"You are Jane, and I love you, and if you want to buy groceries or get your own apartment–"

"I don't want my own apartment."

The tense set of his shoulders relaxed. "Okay, then if you want to buy groceries or pay the cable bill or whatever you want…" He tugged on her hands, pulling her closer. "Then you do that."

The hard knot of tension in her belly loosened.

She let go of his hands so she could loop her arms around his neck. "Even if I buy the groceries, I don't actually know how to cook them."

"That is true." He stroked his hands up her spine. "So you'll stay here just so I can turn your groceries into actual meals?"

She smiled. "That's not the _only_ reason." She hugged him and tilted her head back to look him in the eye, more seriously this time. "I love you, and I want to be here. With you."

He framed her face with his hands. "I want you to be here, with me. For good. Forever. And I know that's too much and too soon, and I don't want to rush you. But I want you to know how I feel."

Her heart stopped as she realized what he was saying. And then the smile that she couldn't contain broke through. "I want to be with you, for good, forever, too."

She leaned up on her toes to kiss him, intending just a brief peck, but Kurt pulled her even closer and deepened the kiss. And just as always, she was both lost in his embrace and wholly found, because _home_ for her would forever be wherever they were together.

"So," he murmured against her lips. "As long as you're staying…"

"Hmmm?" She was too busy trying to pull his shirt off to focus on his words.

He scooped her up in his arms, ignoring her squeak of surprise, and strode off towards their bedroom.

He dropped her on the mattress and followed her down, his mouth tracing a hot path down the side of her throat. "You have to admit that it's convenient."

She angled her head to the side to give him better access to the pulse point at the base of her neck. "What is?" she mumbled as she returned to yanking up the bottom of his shirt.

He reared back just long enough to whip the shirt over his head, then dropped back down to cage her in with his arms. "Having you naked in my bed every night."

She smoothed her palms up the planes of his back. "You're naked, too," she pointed out.

He grinned at her. "That's why it's so convenient."

"Mmm." She nodded at him. And then she flipped both of them over, so she was on top, straddling him.

She pulled off her own shirt and sports bra, watching with affection as his gaze went hazy with desire, his hands reaching for her.

She let him pull her down, purring with contentment as his hands moved over her bare skin.

He tugged her closer so he could kiss her again, but before their lips could touch, she said, " _Our_ bed."

Thwarted from reaching her mouth, he settled for tracing his lips across the line of her jaw. "Mmm?"

She raised her head and grinned down at him. "Both of us. Naked. In _our_ bed. Every night."

"That's really all I want out of life." His words were teasing, but the look in his eyes, as he reached up to brush the hair away from her face, was serious.

She reached up to touch his cheek, hoping that he could see the commitment in her own gaze. "Me too," she whispered. And then she leaned down to press her lips to his, showing him with her body more eloquently than mere words could ever do.


End file.
